Relatable Poem Novels & Stories

The poem is titled 'SPEAK TO YOURSELF' and it reads thus. ******************************************************* How often do you converse with yourself? How often do you speak to yourself? How often do you listen to yourself when no one is speaking? How often do you minister to yourself? How often do you truly embrace yourself, your pain, your flaws, your truth, your fears... SPEAK TO YOURSELF Say to yourself.... "Though I am shattered and bereaved and I might wither with the wind but like seeds, I can sprout out of the ground, new and better. "

“Let’s see it.” I turned the paper over, and revealed the poem scrawled in pencil on the back. Down the streets of woodland black I wander, earth to hearse In every tree I see a wave A looming tidal curse On the cusp of something greater Stood ankle-deep in floodwater Stagnant pools of brown and red The onslaught is coming; I dread For each dark night and each pearl day The mist does clear too soon The floodplain is drown’d again The water, torn from its ocean womb

So I decided to focus on writing the poem which I imagined so I won't forget when he ask me ! What you have done to me It's not me I'm sure it's not me You're not a perfect match for me you're bad and cruel But who knows you're the most pain baring person Your pain is vulnerable Your pain is invisible You're not the person whom you're portraying to the world You're a kid craving true love to mend your heart I will be your guardian angel in your life of hell I will be light to your dark soul I will mend your heart with a ray of hope called love

"This is regarding the poem you wrote for the 'The Pen Is Mightier Than the Sword' contest in grade 8." Bile rose in my throat as memories flooded back. I had poured my heart into that poem. The theme that year had been personal growth, empathy, and anger. I did not want to be reminded of my mother because she had been the subject matter of the poem in question. But hearing Cupid's inquisition about the poem caused a sense of unease to wash over me. How did they even know about that poem? And why were they bringing it up now?

I storm out Why won't anyone believe me, I have a real life vampires blood Arrg! after everything I went through, still just insults I did my study on those creatures for years, and I can still remember some of my favourite poetry and poems I read as a kid A Last Word by Ernest Dowson Let us go hence: the night is now at hand; The day is overworn, the birds all flown; And we have reaped the crops the gods have sown; Despair and death; deep darkness o'er the land,

Maybe one day my talent will get me somewhere better in life. Ah ,grief, I should not treat you like a homeless dog, who comes to the back door for a crust,for a meatless bone , I should trust you. I should coax you into the house and give you, your own corner,a worn mat to lie on, your own water dish . You think I don't know you've been living under my porch. You long for your real place to be readied before winter comes . You need your name, your collar and tag, you need the right to warn off intruders, to consider my house your own and me your person and yourself my own dog . A poem by Denise Levertov.

I went first, blocking out everything as the words came to me; my poem was about my life and all the pain I'm going through. "I am fear and pain, I wonder if those are all I feel, I hear the voices in my head yelling, I see how those feelings eat us up inside, I want it all to end but that's just wishful thinking, I am fear and pain, I pretend that those feelings don't exist in me, I feel happiness once in a while, but the feelings ends before it even begins, I stare at a blank canvas, because that's what my life is empty, I worry that I will never get out of this hole I'm in, I cry everyday wishing it will all end. I am fear and pain. I recognize that life isn't fair. I believe it will impr

The night sky stretches above, clear and star-studded, a canvas of serenity that contrasts with the chaos within me. I've always found comfort in writing, and tonight is no different. The words flow from my fingertips onto the screen, a form of therapy that helps me process the storm of emotions raging inside me. As I jot down a few lines about my situation, the poem takes shape, capturing the essence of my pain and confusion. It's a bittersweet creation, a reflection of the tangled web of emotions I find myself trapped in.

For me you are just ordinary, not a romantic figure Not a single poetic figure When I'm by your side I feel comfortable When you go there is a little miss that fairy For me, you are a friend, a friend in times of joy and sorrow Your presence makes me smile, all tiredness and confusion in the chest are gone You are a simple person, face the day with a smile 1000 prayers for you my love, healthy body, healthy also your sustenance Choose you with prayer, string hope with bismillah Wading together, getting to know each other from time to time, both in joy and in sorrow Love poetry will not be able to say, love poetry will flow by itself. SINTIA

It struck me and with teary eyes, I began writing a poem. My thoughts were lifted and my burden light But not long till hurt becomes my bread My heart torn between a smile and a sigh A twain feeling of a moon and sun I welcomed the ice but the fire wasn’t far Would you be a friend or a foe? Dear happiness please leave behind the fire And welcome and embrace the ice I won’t be able to bear it, not at all Happiness is a double-edged sword A pretty friend and an ugly foe. I closed my note pad, went to the sitting room to greet my parents. I had earlier prepared Oha soup during the day so I dished out some for dinner.